Roughing up the mockingbird
by Mirvena
Summary: The story behind John's two-week marriage - a rescue of a kind. Rated M for mild sexual content, nothing explicit.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I still don't own them.

One or two folks have asked for the story behind John's second marriage – the two-week wonder. Well, here it is. As usual it's my own peculiar fusion of TV-verse/AU. It is set three to four months after "Now we are five".

There are sexual references, but nothing particularly explicit. My version of John is just the sort of guy who feels he should be M-rated as a matter of course and he will never forgive me if I put him in the T section. That said, it is not suitable for children. I would not like to be responsible for them growing up emulating Johnny's rather unique streak of altruism.

Neither is this for anyone who likes all the boys flawless. Women can make fools of even the mightiest of warriors; just read Homer. Fortunately, as Paris discovered, there's always a brother to hand when you could use one, whether or not you appreciate him…and so there's a rescue, of sorts.

…

**Roughing up the mocking bird.**

I'm looking forward to a month in space. It's been an interesting couple of weeks, and the games-playing has been first rate, but now it's over and I'd kinda like my life back, thank you very much. A few quiet weeks installing Five's long-range systems will do the job nicely.

If I get there. He may, of course, choose to push me out of the airlock before we even reach the space station.

I risk a quick glance sideways. He's concentrating intently on Three's display panel, even though it hasn't changed substantially in the past half an hour. He hasn't spoken a word to me since we lifted off. I can live with the silent treatment. I've done it before.

I have a thunder headache starting up. The rocket always does this to me. I make a mental note to check the ion filter. I settle back and close my eyes and let him fly her. Better that he has something to do.

One day he'll thank me.

…

I never figured him for the whirlwind romance type. Actually, I never figured him for the romantic type, period, although he does have a naïve streak, it's true.

She got her hooks into him at a vulnerable time, I guess. He's not getting any younger. The old man was a father at his age. And it must have occurred to him that he's about to spend months at a time without so much as the scent of a woman – I don't count Tin-Tin; she might be on _my_ list of possibles, but she's certainly off his – and I suppose he's been distracted by everything that's been happening to Gordon.

Actually, I blame Gordon for a lot of this. He gave away the two cardinal secrets. I think the kid actually thought he was doing big brother a favor.

So it isn't really entirely Scott's own fault.

Usually he's unfailingly cautious, to an extent where it probably stops him enjoying at least some of what would undoubtedly throw itself at him. It isn't so much that he has good radar for bounty hunters. He simply treats anyone who comes on strong - and I say _anyone_ advisedly; he seems to have a knack for attracting Gordon's friends - as a potential threat. He has developed some curious methods for keeping them at arm's length.

He really doesn't need to be so defensive - he rarely travels under the Tracy name. But he seems to think that women can sniff out money. I keep telling him he doesn't actually look like a billion dollars, but he doesn't often let his guard down, nonetheless.

She must have slipped in under it somehow.

They met when Gordon was transferred down to the orthopedic hospital in LA to make it easier for us to visit. When he wasn't home testing what have affectionately become known as Thunderbirds One and Three, Scott was staying over in California, visiting Gordon daily to help out with his physio.

_She_ was visiting a brother who had come off his bike at a moto-rally and broken almost as many bones as Gordon. Alan didn't help when he dropped in at the spring break – he got all pally with the brother, talking racing, and suddenly everyone was best friends. Whether someone got careless and let slip who we were, I don't know. She was bright enough not to let on. I just know she found out. But I'm sure she managed to look as startled as a jack-rabbit when he eventually got around to telling her his real name. By then it was too late. He was hooked.

She had bided her time and let him think it was his idea to date. That's the bit that I haven't forgiven Gordon for yet.

When I phoned him last week he admitted that she'd asked him how to get his older brother to ask her out. The little fool had told her the two golden rules:

Let him make the first move, and don't sleep with Johnny.

Okay, so it's become a little game. It's always fun to see if I can steal their women. I've even snuck Dad's out from under his nose on occasion. He likes them young. I figure I'm doing him a favor. Can't be good for his back at his age.

Dad protested when Scott said he was bringing her back to the island. Scott simply retorted that it was a good chance to check the security was working well enough. I suppose we should at least be grateful he wasn't planning on telling her about IR any time soon.

I don't think any of us realized just how smitten he was.

I can see why he fell for her, at one level. Give the guy credit, he has taste. She was stunning. And she had a look of Mom about her – her hair was a little darker, true, and her eyes were green, not amber, but there was some facial similarity, something in the bone structure maybe. She had a terrific figure and legs right up to her waist, I swear. She spent – still spends so far as I know – a lot of her day doing magazine photo shoots. But I didn't figure her as his sort. I always reckoned he'd go for the all-action heroine, the reckless tomboy, not some glamor queen.

I'd heard a lot about her from Gordon, even before I met her. He was pretty sure it was Se-ri-ous and that it was a Good Thing. I've put that down to the painkillers impairing his judgment.

So, Scott and Virj swapped shifts at the hospital, crossing mid-Pacific, and he brought her back to meet the rest of the family. Well, those of us who were home - Dad, me and Kyrano. That's Se-ri-ous enough.

She'd figured him out – I'll give her that. When he was with her she focused right in on him, but didn't fuss too much. She'd picked up that he has a low embarrassment threshold. She was friendly and just the right amount interested in the rest of us. When she thought she'd got him on his own – she reckoned without our internal surveillance systems - she was as physical as she probably dared be before backing off and looking coquettish. Alternately temptress and Snow White.

She couldn't keep up the whole act quite so well when he wasn't there; off her guard she mostly looked bored. Island life probably wasn't quite what she'd anticipated.

How was I so certain she was a predator?

I guess it takes one to know one.

I did a little delving. Nothing I found out about her made me feel any better.

I did actually toy with the idea of just letting her do it. Scott has been a top-class pain in my butt for some time now.

He's struggled with the idea that I've grown up and I have my own ideas about the way life is supposed to work.

It's true that as a child I'd have done anything to please him. I'm not sure exactly when he started to slide off his pedestal.

We were super-smart kids, I suppose, and - while Virj steadfastly refused to develop at anything other than his own sweet pace - Mom reportedly hot-housed the both of us. Scott's giftedness isn't as all-round as mine. It comes in odd pockets, with bizarre gaps in between, but it was still broad enough to enrol for honors in high school. He kept ahead of me for a long time but only in mathematics. He strolled into Yale at seventeen, but he isn't that adventurous, and took courses he knew he could excel at without effort. He majored in math and took some courses in physics and electronic engineering, powering his way through the accelerated programme. Even his masters degree in England must have been a breeze.

But when I was seventeen or eighteen I noticed that he too began to struggle to comprehend what I was doing. At first I just thought it was because he had his head full of fighter planes and aerial combat strategies. But the painful truth dawned. I was leaving him behind. And that's a hard thing to take in someone you worship.

Still, I persevered with idolizing him a while longer. When I finally realized how much I like women, I tried to do the right thing – his idea of the right thing - and married the first one that I'd gotten serious about. I was nineteen, but, _hey_, college was boring. I'd already finished two degrees and needed something new to occupy my time while I threw together a masters thesis. The masters took a year. The marriage lasted eight months.

Unfortunately I'd realized quite quickly that it's women, _plural_, that mean a lot to me.

Well, okay, let's be ruthlessly honest. It's sex. What can I say? I was a late starter compared to most of my brothers and I needed to make up for it and fast.

I wasn't being fair either to Sam or myself. She wasn't especially vindictive, although Dad is still smarting about the settlement. They all gave me a hard time over the divorce; in a short time Sam somehow managed to worm her way into the affections of the entire Tracy household. But I got the full works from Scott. He's only recently got over it.

Looks like I might be headed for more of the same treatment. I hope it's worth it.

To get back to the point - the bottom line was that if this was going where I thought it was going then there was only one way it could end.

Scott's the guy on the white charger – you know? He's actually a decent person. Virj thinks he knows him better than I do, but the truth is –love him or hate him, and I do both in about equal measure - no-one knows as much _about_ him as I do. I observe. I don't forget. It's just how I am. I know he's had more than his fair share of troubles. And I sleep next door to the guy when we're home. I know he still has nightmares. He really doesn't deserve what she'd have done to him. Besides, IR goes hot in under a year, and we could _all_ do without this kind of complication.

I figured I could short-circuit things a bit.

He installed her in the guest room the first night. I mean, the _guest _room for pity's sakes. I checked the infra-red logs the next day. He'd stayed in his own room all night. His sense of chivalry really goes beyond the hopeless. And it's no wonder the guy has so much raw energy.

The second day, I put Plan A into operation.

It should have been like taking candy from a baby.

Sadly, like I said, she'd been pre-warned. I'm sorely tempted to add to Gordon's list of injuries.

At first I didn't think that it would be a problem. It would take a little more effort than usual, that's all.

But I have to admit, she's tenacious.

I managed to get her on her own a couple of times. I let her know I was interested. She let me know – politely – that she wasn't. I turned up the heat under the smile. "C'mon. You're not telling me that things have gone so far with Scott that you can't have a little fun. You slept with him yet?"

Her smile matched mine. We both knew how to play this game. "Honey, that's none of your business, you know that," she pouted and ran a finger across my lips. I felt some distal stirrings. Dang, the tricksy little minx could both turn _me_ on and resist my animal magnetism at the same time. I had to hand it to her, she was _really_ good.

I ratcheted up the John Glenn Tracy charm as high as it'll go, and it goes pretty high, believe me. I ran a finger down her back. She gasped and her breathing quickened. Just the intended effect. My hopes shot up. I moved in close to let her know how far.

"Beautiful woman like you - you're wasted on him, you know that? Besides, he need never know," I lied. That was the point. I'd make damn _sure_ he knew. I know Scott - he won't settle for damaged goods. I bent my head down and my lips found hers. She put up very little resistance. When she came up she was fighting for breath.

"You're very sweet," she purred huskily. I tried not to grimace. _Sweet_? "And it sure is a tempting offer, honey. But I couldn't do that to him."

My finger worked its way to more sensitive areas but after a few moments she sighed reluctantly and moved it away.

"Hon', you _really_ shouldn't be doing that."

She glanced about quickly to check he wasn't anywhere in the vicinity.

"You're not going to get any better offers while you're here," I pointed out. "He _hasn't_ slept with you, has he?

"He says I'm special and he wants to wait until we're married. Don't you think that's cute?" She didn't sound over-enthusiastic.

"Real cute," I said, just as unenthusiastically.

I'm not used to being turned down. However attracted to me she was, it seemed she was even more dedicated to getting her hands on the full weight of the Tracy billions. Ultimately, that was her downfall. I'd have let her off easy if she'd been less greedy.

But Plan B was beginning to take shape, and aid arrived from an unexpected quarter.

…


	2. Chapter 2

Dad called me into his office that evening. I slumped into a chair opposite his desk and waited for him to fire away.

He was rubbing his head – always a danger signal - and I fully expected the old lecture on leaving my brothers' women-folk alone.

Instead he threw up a hand in despair. "What are we going to do about her, Johnny?"

"The Great White?"

"Who else?"

"I've been trying, believe me, sir. She's like Fort Knox. Not to be broken into."

"Could you try harder?" He broke off, shook his head. "I can't believe I'm saying this. I'm not making this up, am I?"

"No, sir. She's a gold digger. Worst variety."

"Have you told him?"

"Don't think he's going to take it from me," I said evenly.

"Me neither. Maybe Kyrano?"

"It's certainly a thought."

Scott loves the old man, and he'll listen to his advice. I considered it, dismissed it. Too many variables. He listens to Virgil, too, but I knew the big fella. He'd want to give the witch the benefit of the doubt.

"We could just leave it alone and hope he works it out," Dad said. He didn't sound hopeful.

"He may, but he's got it bad. I think it's his age. The 'M' word has already been mentioned. She's five steps ahead of him. He's way out of his depth, Dad."

"Should I just cut our losses and pay her off?"

"She might go for that," I agreed. "But I've got a better idea, and you'll get to keep your money. But I need a couple of week's vacation."

"Done," he said so promptly that I wasn't sure I'd heard right.

"Fine," I said, a little cautiously. "And there's one other thing I need."

He eyed me up balefully. "What do I have to do?"

…

I made sure she was in the lounge the next day when the row started up in Dad's office. Most of it wasn't quite intelligible through the door, but we could get the gist.

She winced after a while.

"Is your father always like this?"

"Dad?" I looked up from the newspaper I'd been studying carefully. "No. Not at all. He's a pussy cat. Well, except where Scott's concerned. He and Scott don't often see eye to eye, that's all. Very strong-minded, the pair of them. Stubborn as mules."

She looked a little alarmed.

Bait taken.

I turned the page of the paper. I have no idea to this day what was on the page I'd been 'reading'.

The volume rose a little next door.

"This does sound like quite a humdinger, even for them," I observed casually.

"What are they fighting about?"

"Who knows? Never takes much to set them off."

I made a play of eavesdropping. Hopefully it might have escaped her notice that the 'row' was pretty one-sided. Scott very rarely fights back unless it's some matter of principle; he learned long ago – and the hardest of ways - that he can't win an argument with Dad.

"Sounds like he thinks Scott's been slacking recently. I suppose he has been taking a lot of time off. To take care of Gordon, y'know?"

I felt a little sorry for him. It did seem a touch unfair. My fault for not specifying exactly what it was Dad should chew him out about.

"But Gordon's been so ill – surely your father of all people would understand?"

"Well he would, if he considered Scott family," I answered conversationally, half an eye on the paper. "But he doesn't. Scott's just another employee, so far as Dad's concerned."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there was this one time they went at each-other so bad that Dad disowned him. Disinherited him on the spot"

_That_ got her attention.

"Poor baby," she murmured. "But they always make up, right?"

I just blew some air out of my cheeks.

"Scott just works for him these days. Dad needs good pilots and Scott's the best. It's purely business. Most of the time they stay out of each other's way."

"But what would make them fall out so badly that your father would…" she couldn't actually bring herself to say the word.

"Disinherit him?" I put in helpfully. I shrugged. "They have irreconcilable ideological differences."

I'm not sure she knew what that meant, but thankfully she didn't ask. I studied her expression with apparent concern.

"Oh, you needn't worry. Scott's quite capable of earning a living. He lived off his Air Force salary for quite a while, and I'm pretty sure Dad pays better wages than the military." I waved a hand vaguely to demonstrate how sure I was. "Besides, I think he might have a few grand or so stashed away that Gramps left him."

Lies always work better when there is a liberal amount of truth thrown in with them. Most of these sins were ones of omission, to be fair. The point was that she wasn't going to be able to ask Scott to verify any of this without actually giving herself away.

Next door, things were reaching a climax.

I turned the screw a little tighter. "He isn't a big spender. Very thrifty. Don't upset yourself – you needn't worry about being short of money when you two get married."

She was visibly shaken. If I'd had any doubts I was doing the right thing, they were dispelled in that moment.

"Married?" she asked faintly.

"Sorry – didn't you say something yesterday about the two of you getting married?"

"Well, I think that's more in his head than an actual plan. I mean, I'm fond of him, sure, sugar, but…we'll have to see, I guess."

Indeed we would. The noise abated next door. Since Scott hadn't emerged from Dad's office, I guessed he'd chosen to avoid the possibility of further humiliation, and taken the back stairs down to the gym. That's usually his first port of call when he's upset. He'd be there a while. Good. Gave me time to consolidate.

I moved in for the kill.

…

I walked in on Scott in the kitchen a couple of hours later. I know he was still upset because he was eating leftovers straight from the open fridge. I had thought we'd more or less cured him of this spectacularly un-ecological, not to say downright unhygienic, habit, but apparently it still emerges in times of stress.

"How's it going bro'?" I asked cheerfully.

"Just great," he muttered. "Did you catch any of that tirade?" He swigged some orange juice direct from the carton.

"Just the tail-end," I lied. "What was the problem?"

"Damned if I know," Scott said. "Kept ranting at me about being behind schedule. When I pointed out to him that we both agreed I'd only come work for him when Gordon comes out of hospital and anything I've been doing so far is a bonus he went into top gear and started yelling at me about how he could have had the pick of any pilot he wanted and how pretty much any of them would have done a better job than I'm doing. He had me thinking my IR career was finished before it's even started. Then to cap it all, he comes down to the gym half-an-hour later, and apologises, tells me he was wound up about something else and not to take any notice of him. How do you like that?"

He'd clearly bought the whole act. Not that I'm surprised. It amuses me no end that Dad, publicly one of the most radical and liberal free-thinkers of his generation, has all the toleration of a bull on the end of a cattle-prod in his everyday transactions. This morning's events were just not that unusual.

I made the effort to pat him on the back and sympathise. After all, it was likely to be the last civil conversation we were going to have for a while.

"It's his age. Mid-life crisis. He's probably convinced himself that by the time we actually get IR up and running he'll be too old to enjoy it. Don't worry. I'm sure he'll be fine once the entire team's home and swung into gear."

"I sure hope so. I can't take too many mornings like the one I've had. Did she…." he cocked his head in the general direction of the living room.

"She may have caught a little of it, yes."

"Wonderful," he muttered, turning his attention back to the fridge. I left him to it. Kyrano would be along shortly. He's always been good at picking up the pieces.

…

I toned my approach down some. Less street-wise, more naïve young brother with a bad case of the hots. She seemed to be buying it.

I'd been sure to point out my room to her. She let herself in softly that night.

I made certain it was the last thing she did quietly.

Scott can't have missed the show. Like I said, he has the room next to mine and although the builders made some attempt to dampen down the noise transmission, the nights are often hot on the island and everyone sleeps with their balcony doors open. Not that I imagine any of the three of us got much sleep that night.

I did have some doubts the next morning when I heard him go for his run at 0530 hours as normal. How much more was I going to have to do?

But no, apparently it's just that keeping to his island routine comes one point higher in his priorities than punching out the lights of the younger brother who's just bedded his girlfriend. By the time I'd snuck in a much-needed forty winks, showered, dressed and ushered her –with over-exaggerated secrecy - out of my room, big brother was back in his, packing a bag.

Since his door was open, I thought I'd check out the temperature.

As I thought. A few degrees short of absolute zero.

"Hey, Scott." I tried to stifle a very genuine yawn.

He zipped up the bag, grabbed his flight jacket and swung it over his shoulder with more dignity than I could probably have mustered under the circumstances. He even resisted an oath. "I'm going back to see Gordon," he said flatly. "When I get back, she's going to be gone. So are you."

He swept past me with the sort of force that would have flattened me had I not been well-practiced in avoiding him in this kind of mood.

I held up a finger. "Right," I agreed. That fitted just fine with my plans.

...


	3. Chapter 3

I suppose I could have left it at that. Damage was done. But that wouldn't have been any fun. She deserved so much more.

So, instead of flying her back to LA, I flew her to Vegas later that afternoon.

It took just two days to 'persuade' her that I was the brother she ought to marry. Of course, I may inadvertently have created the impression that I was also the brother who was now in line to inherit the Tracy family fortune. We decided not to hang about and booked the registrar for the next day. That night we celebrated with a magnum of quality champagne.

"Just one thing, hon'," I said, a little anxiously.

"Fire away, sweet pea," she said, clinking her glass against mine for the fourth or fifth time. Her speech was definitely slurred.

"I hate to bring it up, really."

"Oh, honey…" she crooned. "What's the matter?"

"Well, you know I was married before? And it didn't work out."

She nodded thoughtfully. "You must have been so young."

_Yeah. Nineteen. A whole year and a bit younger than I am now._

"It was devastating, really it was. And she really wiped the floor with me, y'know?"

She frowned sympathetically. "That bitch."

"Dad was so furious. He had to bail me out to the tune of a hundred million."

"A hundred mi…" The dollar signs went on in her eyes.

Actually it was nearer two hundred millions, but I didn't want her getting ideas.

"He made me promise."

"Mm-hm?"

"If I ever contemplated marriage again I'd have a pre-nup drawn up." I dug under the sofa, where I'd stashed the papers, awaiting the precise moment of inebriation. "He told me I had to cap any settlement at fifty million dollars. Honey, I know that this is never going to happen to us. I hate these things. But I think my father would just do the exact same thing to me that he did to Scott if I didn't get any future Mrs Tracy to sign this thing."

I think she had probably exited the conversation at the mention of the fifty million. She didn't ask for her lawyer to look over it. I didn't even have to find her a pen. We got the bell-boy to witness it.

The following morning we dragged him down to the registry office to witness the wedding too.

The next few days were kinda fun.

I showed her a better time than Scott would have done, that's for sure. He's already gotten himself black-listed at two of the better Vegas casinos and they're passing the word round. He cleans up most every time he plays. They think he's playing a system. He isn't – not exactly - he's just a human calculator. Near-eidetic memory, a savant-like ability to do complex calculations in his head and an excellent grasp of the laws of probability. Don't ever take him on at poker. For a nice guy he has a surprisingly ruthless streak. Me, I don't mind losing once in a while if it keeps me _persona grata_.

So we hit the casinos at nights, won a little, lost a little, and played other kinds of games during the day. She turned out to be surprisingly imaginative.

I made it look expensive. I'm sure she thought the limo and driver were Tracy-owned, but I just hired them when I needed them. I ordered in a few hundred dollars worth of costume jewellery. Sooner or later she'd have them valued, I'm sure, but she clearly had more pretensions than know-how because she didn't seem to spot that they were fake.

As vacations go, it was dreamy.

But all good things come to an end.

After a week or so of this I reluctantly thought that it might be a good idea to start drawing things to a conclusion before she got suspicious.

Besides, I could begin to hear the siren-call of Five luring me away.

I started to sow the idea in her mind that we had maybe rushed into things. We'd known each-other less than a week when we tied the knot. And I'm so _young_. Hell, I only hit the legal drinking age at my last birthday. She's eight years older than me. Maybe we're not such a good match.

I could see her weighing up the prospect of fifty million of her very own now versus several billions controlled by yours truly some indeterminate length of time down the line. And it can't have escaped her notice that my father looks pretty fit and unlikely to drop down dead any time soon.

She reluctantly agreed with me. We'd rushed things.

We rushed the next bit too.

I flew her to the Dominican Republic. Home of the twenty-four hour divorce. I filed the paper work. I'm getting good at it. I even agreed I'd strayed a little, just to make things look more convincing.

The judge was looking over the top of his glasses as he pronounced the nisi. I've seen that look before, on Dad's face. He was a wily old bird. He glanced through the pre-nup and raised an eyebrow.

"You both agreed to this? Both of you read it and knew what it was you were signing?"

We both agreed we'd read it and knew what we were signing.

"Then I think you had better pay the lady what you owe her, Mr Tracy," the judge said. There was the faintest suspicion of a smile.

"Will you take cash?" I asked innocently.

That clearly puzzled her. I could see her trying to work out what sized van she'd need to transport that many dollars back to the airport.

"Cash?"

I reached into my pocket, dug out a coin, span it through the air to her. True, it would have had more effect if she'd caught it, but as it was she was pretty nonplussed and just let it drop.

"What is this?"

"Never let it be said I didn't give you a dime, my dear."

She blinked. "A dime?" She peered at the fallen coin as if expecting it to grow like a bean-stalk. "What are you talking about?"

"Our agreed settlement in the event of a divorce."

"Our agreed…?" Her voice turned a little faint. "You said fifty..."

"Fifty what?" I asked, apparently puzzled.

"Fifty million."

"Fifty million?" I just laughed. "You have got to be kidding me, sweetheart!"

She found her voice – it rose a half an octave and a couple of hundred decibels.

"You told me fifty million!"

"Uh-uh. I think my words were Dad capped me out at fifty million. He didn't say anything about fixing a lower limit. Didn't you read the small print?"

She swung around furiously to the judge. She was going an interesting shade of purple by now.

"Can he do this?"

The judge smiled sweetly. I had the feeling he'd seen it all before.

"The pre-nuptial agreement is drawn up properly, signed by both parties and witnessed. You've just told me on the record that you knew what you were doing. Yes, he can do this."

Tears started into her eyes. "You son of a b…".

"Hey!" I interrupted sternly. "Let's leave my mother out of this." There are some places no-one goes.

She glared at me for a full twenty seconds before slapping me in the face, swinging on her heel and storming out.

"You can keep the jewellery," I told her departing back. It seemed like a fair wage for a few weeks' work.

And I did pay for her flight home. Club class.

…

We go through the docking procedures.

He helps me unload the supplies and equipment. I've got a lot of sensitive astronomical instruments with me, as well the gear to calibrate the sensors. I have some ideas about hooking up our satellite system with the radio telescope on the far side of the moon to give an array that can make some really serious deep space observations and I'm keen to give it a try.

When we're done, I expect him to leave. But he doesn't.

Maybe he just wants to look around, I tell myself. I know every detail of Five intimately. I've been working for months to help the boys who put her up here – they think they've been building a super-relay station for a major new TV channel - but while he's familiarised himself with her specs, he hasn't actually seen her yet.

I change out of the pressure suit. He doesn't. He spends a couple of hours or so nosing around Five's systems. Every so often he stops to ask a question. He's polite, genuinely interested, but keeping it cold. He doesn't meet my eye.

But in the end he's satisfied, motions me towards the seating area.

"Got any soda?"

I pull some out of the fridge. He's building to something. I just hope it isn't going to involve the airlock.

He looks right at me for the first time in a fortnight. "Just tell me how you did it."

I wrinkle my nose. Might as well give it to him straight. "Told her Dad cut you out of his will."

It takes a moment to sink in, but not as long I expect. Seems he's already half-way there. He leans back, rolls his eyes, and gives a bitter half laugh. "You must think I'm the worst kind of an idiot."

I try to let him down gently. "She was one hell of a con-artist. Besides," I shrug, "she really wasn't your type."

He leans forward again now, his head bowed a little. Evidently he feels the need to explain his stupidity. "I don't mind telling you I was a little jealous of what you and Sammy had going back there. When you two split up…" he spreads his hands.

"Scott, I was nineteen. I had no idea what I was doing. Besides this wasn't the same as Sammy."

"It sure wasn't. You know this isn't what marriage is for, don't you?"

"I know it isn't what _your_ marriage is for," I say pointedly.

He nods slowly in acknowledgment then grimaces. "I'm beginning to think it's not going to happen.

"Patience, BB. The right woman will turn up. Meanwhile, why don't you just play the field a little more and enjoy yourself? Failing that, keep your guard up."

"Didn't seem to work this time."

"This whole disinheritance thing works a treat. Try it. Otherwise you'll just have to go back to telling all the girls that you're gay."

He cocks an eyebrow. "You know I'm not, right?"

I grin to let him know I know. "Right."

He also tells his gay friends he's straight. Actually, I've heard him say he's both in the same conversation. I don't think he's confused about anything, but his friends sure are.

He changes the subject. "How am I supposed to know when the right girl comes along, Johnny?"

"Maybe you'll get a sign."

He lifts an eyebrow. "A sign?"

I smile at his obvious cynicism.

"Remember when we were kids, you used to tell me all you had to do was reach out and you could feel Mom there right by your side? That sometimes you'd even hear her voice when you most needed her?"

He just grunts.

"You still get that? Maybe she'll give you the nod."

He hesitates a moment, then shakes his head, his eyes wounded somehow. "She left a long time ago. I did too much wrong, John. Still…I figure she must have had her hands full watching out for Gordo. The doctors say he can come home next week."

I nod. Life has a way of working out.

We sit in companionable silence for a bit and drink our soda.

"The sex was great, though," I tell him after a while.

His eyes narrow.

I hold up a hand. "Just an observation."

"More than I needed to know, Johnny-boy. This is probably my cue to leave."

We stand.

"Take care of yourself, kid." He throws an arm round my neck for a quick hug. "Love you."

"You too."

"And…thanks. I think."

He heads off towards the airlock. "I can get back here in two hours if you need me."

"Do you deliver pizza?" I shout after him. The reply is lost in the vacuum.

I'm glad we're good.

I watch the screen as he retracts the docking clamps and fires a gentle blast to clear the station before turning Three and firing up her main boosters.

As she blazes a trail back towards earth, I turn the lighting right down and go to sit by one of the viewing ports, looking out into deep space.

I just sit for an hour or so, alone with the stars, letting the vastness wash over me.

We all have our ways of purifying our bodies and quieting our souls. Virj has his music. Scott works out. And he showers more often than he needs to.

Me, I just need the silence and stillness of space. As the hour ticks away, I watch the lights, no longer flickering as they do from earth, and I let the events of the past three weeks drift through my fingers and fall away like sand.

I allow myself just to _be_, at one with the cosmos.

I become myself.

Finally, I'm ready, and lean forward towards the viewer.

"Hey, Mom," I say softly. "I'm back."

…


End file.
